Hanakotoba
by LeonaWriter
Summary: It started with hospital visits, and somehow, she never stopped going to meet him.


The first time she came, it was with flowers. Long-stemmed daisies, peonies and yellow poppies. Not expecting to find one there, she'd brought a vase of her own.

He didn't even look up when she walked in, and she wasn't sure whether that bothered her or not. All the same, she put the vase down on the desk next to the bed he was in, arranging them just so, because they'd been mussed somewhat by the journey.

To look at him, he was almost unrecognisable from the person she'd faintly seen in a moment in the midst of the fighting. She hadn't even properly known who he was back then - someone was shouting at Yuusei, but it had been dark, and there had been little time for explanations. She'd had enough of her own to worry about, too.

But then the war was over, and there was time. She herself had gone to see Misty, who had been cleared by the doctors well enough, and they'd promised to keep in contact.

She'd passed Yuusei one day on one of her first trips to visit the recovering ex-Dark Signer, and he'd reminded her. "_Kiryu_," he'd said the name was. "_Kiryu Kyousuke"._ He hadn't met her eyes, and she could see a sort of tiredness weighing down on him.

_"Crow and I, Jack too. We've visited, but... it never seems like there's anything we can do."_ Yuusei had shrugged awkwardly, then, looking into the distance. _"But if there is, we're there for him, this time."_

The way that Yuusei had been there for her, when she'd needed him the most.

She stood there, not in the red dress that she'd worn as the Black Rose Witch and to the Fortune Cup, but casual slacks, a long-sleeved top, warm clothes for colder weather. It was warmer now that she was inside, though, warm enough that she'd taken her coat off and had it draped over one arm for quite a while now.

So... now that she was here, what did she do?

She looked up again to find that he was watching her, haunted eyes piercing through her.

"Did Yuusei send you?"

"...No. He told me where you were, but I came by myself. Kiryu-san... yes?"

He blinked at her - or maybe it was the form of address, given what he said next.

"Just 'Kiryu' is fine."

She nodded. With almost anyone else, she might have protested due to the level of rudeness, or the informality of a lack of honorific. But she knew that this person, just like Yuusei and Crow, had grown up in a way that made polite formalities more of a mockery than a respect.

"It doesn't get easier," she said abruptly, surprising even herself. Kiryu regarded her with somewhat more interest, but even more suspicion. "They always say that in time, it gets easier. It doesn't."

"Oh? Then tell me. What _does_ happen."

"I... don't know yet. Perhaps if you stay in the area, we could compare notes."

She hadn't meant it as a joke. If anything, it'd been sarcasm. But he began to laugh all the same, until he began to cough - and it wasn't the same laugh she'd heard before, which had been insane and psychopathic, both alike and unlike her own, at her worst. No, this was just... ordinary.

She felt like she was stealing something, to be hearing it in here, alone, without the ones who'd been waiting for such a thing.

"Of course," he said, the self-mocking there in his tone that she often heard in her head. "I should have remembered. The Witch. That's you, isn't it?" He sighed, the energy draining from him as he leaned his head back against the hard headboard again. "Carly died looking for you. I- heard."

Which could have meant anything, anything from Carly telling him in person for some reason, to overhearing a conversation, to hearing it from someone in this very room after the fact. But her blood still ran cold, the room spinning for a moment.

"She's better now." Aki didn't know whether she was reassuring herself, or informing Kiryu. "She doesn't remember anything, but she was allowed to go as long as she had someone to watch over her, in case she still had any head trauma. They're wondering if that's what could have caused her memory loss."

"And what do you think?"

The question was aimed at the ceiling, but she took the very fact he was asking as a good thing.

"I think that I'd choose to forget if I thought it'd do any good. Maybe in time she'll remember, if she's ready to. Either way, forgetting or not doesn't change the fact that we all did things that can't be erased, no matter whether we remember them or not."

"Good."

And that was all he said, 'good', not a word afterwards. She left, and put her coat back on in the halls, thinking over the strange conversation in her head.

She was busy during the week - with her parents, with catching up on work before her re-enrolment - but created time to talk to Yuusei, who smiled in relief at what she said.

"Maybe you're what he needs," he said. And at her confusion, added, "Someone he doesn't know. But who's willing to relate."

Regardless of reasoning, she found herself going back not long after, this time with Morning Glory, Magnolia, Eidelweiss.

This time, she simply sat down in the chair by his bed, and read - he wasn't in a talkative mood, and she wasn't sure why he was still there.

Maybe it had something to do with the way that he'd died, before, the same way that they'd suggested Carly should check up for a possible concussion - they had done, and she was clear - and if it was, she wasn't sure whether or she should ask, or if it would be appreciated.

So instead of potentially saying something inflammatory, she simply got on with her work. Reminding him, just by being there, that human beings did exist other than the hospital doctors and nurses, and that, as well, she wasn't afraid of him.

She came back the day after next to find a plate of cold food, with only a few bites taken out of it at all, or so it seemed. Most was untouched, even by knife and fork, not even moved around as though he'd even intended to eat any more at all.

She put her books down with an angry 'thump' on the table, a frown already formed on her face.

"No wonder you aren't out of hospital."

He looked up at her, confused and defensive, but mostly taken aback.

"Are you trying to _prove_ something?"

"I'm not hungry," he said, staring her down defiantly. More like a rebellious teenager, she thought, not wanting to do something they actually _did_ want to do. Or rather in this case, _needed_ to do.

"And _I_ say you haven't eaten nearly enough. What are you trying to do, starve yourself?"

He flinched, defiance turning into something else in a heartbeat. Fear, maybe. Guilt, as well. Her anger dissipated. She sighed, and sat down.

"I know it's hard," she said patiently, "but you have to try."

"And if I don't, you'll tell the others, right?" he asked dryly, clearly expecting the answer to be a firm 'yes', the threat of blackmail to be used as a motivator.

"I could." And there it was. Except that things weren't as simple as that. They never were. "I probably won't, though. But I'd prefer to tell them that you're eating."

She found it more than a little unnerving, the way he stared at her. Eventually, though, he did pick up the fork again and ate some pieces of cold potato. When he made a face, she fought not to smile.

"Maybe if you ate it while it was still warm, it'd taste better."

He scowled at her. "Satisfied?"

She smiled, properly this time. "It's a start."

She came back the next day, but earlier. Made sure that he ate more, and took some of her books in. The day after, a change of flowers, bluebells and anemone. It had become her habit without her realising it, and she only understood as much when Yuusei made mention of how she was talking about Kiryu a lot lately.

He hadn't seemed to mind, though, but the words he'd said ended up playing around in her head, causing her to remember odd things at strange, random momnets.

The way she'd made him laugh, without even meaning to.

The way he'd look through her, because they had the same kind of eyes.

The comfortable silences, because not everything had to be said to be understood.

One day, she found herself idly wondering what it would be like to duel him with nothing on the line. She was reading, eyes sometimes skipping over words, and the idea had come, fully formed, into her head. She'd dismissed it away - for now. So soon after the war, with the two of them having been on opposite sides, and her own dueling not entirely under control yet... it was an idea that would have to wait.

A few days later, she found herself putting yellow camellia in by accident, and after a moment's hesitation, left them in. It wasn't as if he'd know what it meant, after all. They were just flowers.

Even so, when he started showing signs of regaining his strength, hydrangeas found their way into the arrangements that he'd never once objected to. Rolled his eyes at, yes, but never actually showed signs of wanting her to stop.

He started to show interest in her schoolwork. He'd profess to not understand pretty much any of it, but he'd interject here or there, and she found his new perspective on things refreshing.

She'd been right, they found. It didn't get easier - they both had their good days, and their bad days. Days when everything seemed right, and days when they snapped at everything, and would have been glad to think that they'd driven everyone away who might care, because caring _hurt_.

She came back, though. She always did. At first it had been out of a strange fascination, a sort of curiosity. Then, it had been to make sure he ate properly. And after that... she simply had. And when he was seen as fit to leave, and he found a place to stay, the visits continued.

Sometimes every single day, sometimes just once a week. There'd be time. There always was. He still looked somehow constantly tired, but he was better than when she'd first seen him. Much better.

They shared stories. From the past, of what had happened when they were younger. From the present, the day to day happenings in their lives. Plans for the future. Dreams they hoped to fulfill.

_Yuusei's thinking of entering a tournament_, she said one day.

He knew. And wouldn't meet her eyes. Something was bothering him, something was off, and a few days later she found out what.

He was going to be leaving. Soon, he thought. He'd be in touch, he said, but he couldn't stay. Not like this. Not when he looked around, and all he could feel was pain, when he wanted to feel something else, almost anything else, at the sight of his home.

She understood. She thought she did, anyway, and didn't try to stop him. He'd be back, after all. And he'd keep in contact. He said he would.

She wondered, the day after he left, if he'd noticed the small bundle of white and yellow camellia and gardenia she'd left on his doorstep.


End file.
